


Hunter

by sleepyxcoffee



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Knifeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Eskel (The Witcher), Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28068843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyxcoffee/pseuds/sleepyxcoffee
Summary: Geralt and Eskel learn something new.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 3
Kudos: 68
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	Hunter

Geralt loves Eskel like this, naked and his.

Eskel is all hard muscle and soft flesh and scarred skin, with powerful hands and large fingers which take Geralt apart. His mouth trails over Geralt’s hips, brushing over his dick teasingly. Geralt moans, bucking and burying his face in the pillow. Eskel’s lips curve into a teasing smile, his scars tugging at one side of his mouth.

“Do you want more, Wolf?” Eskel purrs. Geralt groans, twisting and bucking. Eskel has been teasing him for what felt like  _ hours _ , and he is desperate.

“Yes,” Geralt grits out. He’s panting, his dick red and hard and leaking against his belly. Eskel chuckles low in his throat - a sound that makes Geralt shudder - and rubs his fingers against Geralt’s pucker. Geralt pushes towards the pressure, but Eskel pulls away.

“Patience is a virtue.” And suddenly, Eskel is gone.

Geralt whines. He pushes himself up on his elbows, watching as Eskel, in all his naked glory, strides to the chair in the corner and sits down with his hunting knife. And, to Geralt’s dismay, he starts  _ sharpening _ it. “Are you really doing this  _ now? _ ” Geralt complains.

Eskel chuckles. “You can be good for me and wait, can’t you, Wolf?” Eskel’s smooth, rumbling baritone  _ does things _ to Geralt, and he knows it, the dirty cheat.

Unsurprisingly, Geralt cannot wait. He has waited far too long for Eskel’s touch, and he refuses to let Eskel escape. He crawls off the bed and prowls towards Eskel, his muscles rippling with all the strength and grace of their school’s namesake. Then Geralt falls to his knees between Eskel’s legs and wraps his lips around Eskel’s cock. It is thick and hard and  _ perfect _ in Geralt’s mouth, stretching his jaw just a bit too much to be comfortable, and Geralt loves it.

A strangled sound emerges from Eskel’s throat. His grip on the knife tightens. “Be a good boy and  _ wait, _ ” Eskel gasps, but he does nothing to remove Geralt. Instead, he thrusts into the warm wetness, and Geralt takes it readily as his lover’s cock hits the back of his throat, making him choke. Eskel teasingly runs the flat of the blade against Geralt’s cheek, and Geralt thinks he might die from how  _ good _ the cold metal is against his flesh, from how  _ good _ Eskel’s hand looks when it’s wrapped around a deadly weapon. It almost comes as a surprise. The key word being  _ almost _ .

His sudden spike in arousal does not go unnoticed. Eskel lets out a small “oh”.

“You like that, don’t you?” Eskel growls. Geralt whines and nods, pulling off Eskel’s dick.

“ _ Yes _ .” Eskel’s eyes darken, and Geralt is just about ready to ride him silly, preparation be damned. The rest of the world sees Eskel’s sweet and polite veneer. This wildness is for him, and him alone.

“What’s the safeword?” Eskel asks.

“Lambert.”

“Good.”

And suddenly, Geralt is on his feet, pressed against the wall with a knife to his throat, and he thinks he might come there and then. Eskel is careful, of course - his grip is steady, and only the blunt side of the blade touches Geralt’s skin, but it’s enough. There is just something about the power Eskel holds; Geralt will give Eskel his wholehearted trust at any given time, the bedroom included. The power and danger Eskel holds makes Geralt heady. Eskel could very well hurt him, but Geralt knows he would never, and the adrenaline sends blood rushing south. Geralt tries to rut against Eskel’s thigh desperately, but Eskel pulls away and adds pressure to the knife. Instinctively, Geralt goes limp, staring at Eskel with wide eyes.

“Eskel,” Geralt pants, “please.”

Eskel fucking  _ smirks _ .

He takes the knife and traces it down Geralt’s front. The cool steel of the flesh drives Geralt insane, but he stays completely still, breathing heavily. Then Eskel presses the flat of the blade against Geralt’s balls, and Geralt moans. The coldness and the hint of danger make all thought fly out of his head. Eskel pulls away. His pupils are blown wide, the gold of his irises barely visible. It seems the situation is getting to him as well.

“Get on your back and stretch yourself for me,” he says. Geralt nearly flies to the bed in his haste to obey. He snatches the vial of oil from the dresser and spreads his knees. Slicking his fingers, he immediately shoves two of his fingers into himself and moans. Eskel pulls the chair to the foot of the bed and sits, stroking himself with one hand and holding the knife with the other. Geralt admires the glow of his skin in the fire, the glint of the knife, the glistening, wet head of his cock.

Geralt rubs against his prostate and whines. Pleasure runs through him like an electric current. Eskel’s breath stutters. “You look so good,” he murmurs. “So good like this, all spread open and needy for me.” In response, Geralt scissors his fingers, then adds a third.

“Want you,” Geralt gasps out. “You fill me up so good.”

Eskel stands and gets on the bed, shuffling between Geralt’s legs. “Fingers out,” he orders, and Geralt does just that. Eskel lines the hilt of the blade up with Geralt’s hole, and, grasping the blunt side, fucks it in. Geralt  _ whimpers _ . The ridged handle catches on his rim, and Eskel twists it slightly so it hits Geralt’s prostate with each thrust. There is nobody else in the world who knows Geralt’s body as well as Eskel, and Eskel revels in it as he bites Geralt’s collar and plays with his foreskin.

He’s not sure how long Eskel fucks him like that for; it could have been two minutes, or two hours. All he knows is that he feels full and filthy. Then Eskel pulls out, leaving Geralt empty and longing, and Geralt practically growls.

“Fuck me,” Geralt says. “Fill me up. Come on, Eskel, I want you to fill me up.” Eskel’s whole expression darkens, and he rolls Geralt onto all fours. Geralt complies happily, spreading his thighs to make room for Eskel. He feels Eskel’s cock prod against his entrance, and he moans happily, pressing his hips backwards.

As Eskel slowly sinks into him, he traces the knife against Geralt’s back. The  _ sharp _ side.

Geralt is suddenly very, very aroused. He can  _ feel _ Eskel smirk as he times his thrusts with the blade’s movements. His hand stays light, never hard enough to actually wound; Eskel is a witcher, after all, and his weapons control is second to none. Eskel traces meaningless patterns and shapes on Geralt’s back, leaving behind a slight sting which makes Geralt want for more.

Eskel’s thrusts grow faster as he chases his climax, and the turns of his blade against Geralt’s skin become more frequent, the shapes more ragged. Geralt buries his desperate sounds into a pillow as he clings on for dear life. With each other thrust, Eskel rubs against his sweet spot, and it drives Geralt closer and closer to his peak.

“Eskel,” Geralt forces out. “Eskel, make me come, please, you feel so good -”

Eskel tosses the knife aside. It bounces off the wall with a gentle thunk, and he wraps his hand around Geralt’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. His hips stutter to a stop as Eskel finishes, and Geralt pictures Eskel’s come coating his insides.

Combined with Eskel jerking him off rapidly, it takes him no time to come at all.

Geralt gasps as Eskel pulls out. A messy combination of come and oil leaks out of him, and Geralt falls bonelessly onto the bed. Eskel chuckles and stands, walking away to retrieve a wetcloth. He cleans Geralt gently, careful not to press against the oversensitive flesh, then insists on rolling Geralt over to check his back. Geralt allows himself to be maneuvered, and lets out a happy sigh when Eskel lies on the bed, wrapping him in a loving embrace. “We’ll have to try that again,” Eskel says, and Geralt can’t help but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> My first smut and it’s knifeplay…
> 
> Mandatory disclaimer: don’t fuck with sharp knives, and don’t shove knives up your ass.


End file.
